


Like Teacher, Like Student

by Stratagem



Series: To Infinity and Beyond [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Doctor Strange gets an apprentice, Found Family, Gen, makeshift family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratagem/pseuds/Stratagem
Summary: "Is this the part where you say, 'you're a wizard, Casey?'""Oh, hardly."In which Stephen Strange obtains something he never wanted: an apprentice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is that one story where Stephen Strange winds up with an apprentice slash adopted daughter slash pain-in-the-neck slash sidekick slash ward.
> 
> Why do all the (in this case former) millionaire superheroes always find a ward?
> 
> The world may never know.
> 
> The New York Sanctum Sanctorum may not survive Doctor Strange and his Sorcerer's Apprentice. But Christine Palmer is going to try and make sure that those two survive. With some help from Wong and a few of the NYC superheroes, they might just make it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Strange, and basically everything in this story belongs to Marvel. Casey Kinmont is a Marvel character from a Doctor Strange comic run. Only very minor characters were created by me.

New York City was a frozen wasteland of oily despair, broken alleyways, and lost causes, a desolate icy tundra of crowded loneliness inching forward through a faux-nuclear winter.

Casey grinned wryly at her own purple-prose description of the city and blew on her aching fingers. Okay, but seriously, her fingers were going to freeze and fall off before she got back to the apartment. Then she’d have to be the Fingerless Wonder. What was with this cold snap? Was there some kind of villain around called Snowy McChillMan running around with a freeze ray?

Someone call the Avengers before everyone in Manhattan became Cap-sicles.

Casey pulled her scarf up over her nose, muffling her grumpy curses about the weather as she trudged through the stained grey snow. Today wasn’t so terrible at school. She’d aced her pre-calc test, survived art class with Mrs. Cooper the Harpy, and hadn’t babbled in front of Evan Jones, her current crush.

How anybody could resist having a crush on those dark brown eyes, that curly hair, and the crooked smile combined with a heavy side of science-aptitude was beyond her. He was basically a geeky prince, and she was more than willing to become his athletic princess. They could ride off into the sunset and have a well-rounded existence at a four-year college, you know?

If her grandpa wasn’t expecting her at the shop that afternoon, she would’ve asked Evan if he wanted to have a study session at the café next to the school. It definitely wouldn’t have been called an official date, though they could’ve sat real close together and shared a math book and some long, intense stares. _Then_ after that they could have called it a date.

But no, she was needed at the shop, so all those date-study sessions dreams disappeared like smoke on the super freezing wind. Gramps liked to spend his afternoons binge-watching Netflix, which meant she was expected to play shop attendant to the occasional rabid sports aficionados who came into the antiques store to explore the memorabilia.

Her grandpa had been an ace baseball coach back in the day, coaching for various teams, so sometimes people came in just to talk to him. Usually business was slow, though they did well on the few sales they did make every day. While Casey loved Gramps and baseball and all that good stuff, she always loved the idea of having afternoons to herself to do normal teenage things.

Like dating hunky Geek Princes.

The electronic welcome box over the door cheerfully whistled the first few notes of ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’ as she pushed open the door to Last Inning Wins, her Gramps’ home away from home and therefore hers as well. They lived above the shop in a little apartment, one that had belonged to Gramps for years. Otherwise there would be no way they could afford that place.

There were a couple customers examining the collection of signed baseballs as she passed by, and one of them stared as if they couldn’t believe there was a girl in a baseball shop. She wished she could hurl a fastball at his shocked face but that wasn’t good for business so she settled for a sour smile.

“Hey, Shortstop,” Gramps called from the cashier’s counter. He already had his laptop out and was streaming one of his current favorite Korean dramas. He smirked up at her as she pulled her toboggan off her blue and black hair. “How’s the outside world?”

“Cold and unforgiving,” she said, kissing him on his leathery, stubbled cheek.

“You showing it who’s boss?” he asked.

“Every day.”

“Thatta girl.”

Casey settled onto the tall, spinning barstool behind the cash register and pulled her AP American History book out of her bag. It was old and falling apart, but what with the budget cuts going around, her school made due with the textbooks it had. Even when those textbooks were decades old and way out of date. Luckily her teacher believed in supplementing the textbook with current articles. She opened the book and set her cellphone to the side of it so she could text her best friend Reagan and read at the same time.

She and Gramps sat in companionable silence while the customers looked around and then headed back out. Last Inning Wins was a landmark in the neighborhood, so sometimes tourists popped in just so they could say they had been by the shop. Sometimes Casey wished she could put out a sign that said ‘Vicious Dog, Eats Tourists,’ but Gramps never would’ve allowed that. Just like he would never let her have a dog.

Gramps was on his third episode of the Korean drama and it was almost time to close the shop when the bell went off again. Casey didn’t look up from the text message she was writing, but she could hear the customer moving around the store. She was startled when she felt a hand on her arm. She almost asked what was wrong, but the look on Gramps’ face stopped her. Fear, resentment, disgust, and resilience were warring over his expression.

His voice was hushed and intense as he leaned toward her. “Casey, I need you to go out the back. Don’t stop until you get to Mrs. Jameson’s place.” That was the sweets shop five blocks away.

“Why?” she hissed back, “I’m not leaving you. What’s going on?”

“Just do what I say,” Gramps growled. She followed his stare past her shoulder to where the customer was leaning over a glass case of old mitts. He was wearing a black duster and a hat, but he didn’t seem dangerous enough to make her grandpa respond the way he was. Gramps tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her to her feet even as he reached under the counter for the hidden shotgun.

“Gramps, just explain what’s happening,” she whispered, her heart starting to ram into her ribcage, “Please?”

“Past caught up to us, kid,” he said, his eyes becoming sad. “Sorry I can’t explain more, Casey, there ain’t time. You gotta go.”

The customer turned toward them, his face expressionless and framed by lank black hair. His eyes were a pale green, like old mint toothpaste, and his mouth was bright red, as if he had just finished a cherry lollipop. He looked like a creeper, but that still wouldn’t be enough to make Casey’s tough-as-nails grandfather have a meltdown.

“Hello, Kinmont,” the stranger said, and his voice made the hair stand up on the back of Casey’s neck. It was smooth and dark and enticing. “It’s been a while.”

“Cut the crap, Arpath,” Gramps said, lifting the shotgun and setting it on the counter. “Get out of here while you still can.”

Creepy McCreeperson laughed and walked back over to the door. “You know that’s useless.” He flipped the closed sign and turned the lock, his hand waving over the door handle. The metal seemed to melt together, which was definitely impossible.

“Hey, jerk,” Casey said, “I think it’s time for you to leave.” Her voice didn’t shake even though her hands were trembling. Everything about this situation rubbed at her nerves the wrong way, and she couldn’t decide whether she was more angry or scared. Maybe angry? She reached for the baseball bat, her own weapon of choice, that she kept hidden under the counter.

The man, Arpath, looked at her, his head tilted to the side, then his smile widened into a wolf’s grin. “Ah, the child. She’s as innocent as a babe.” He glanced at Gramps. “She knows nothing, does she? You’ve neglected her education.”

“She doesn’t need to know anything,” Gramps said, his voice like steel, “You just leave her out of this.”

“How can I possibly do that?” Arpath said, stepping toward them. He ran his hand over one of the countertops, and it melted at his touch, the glass turning red-orange and dripping toward the floor. Well, now that was unexpected. “She’s the child of Kelly and Mason. She has to go, just like you and the rest of your pathetic family.”

“Back off, you Criss Angel wannabe asshole,” Casey said, lifting her bat, “We’re not going anywhere.” Oh, she was definitely angry now. No one brought up her dead parents and no one threatened her grandpa, especially not in his own shop. “Now get out of here before I go Babe Ruth on your head.”

“How adorable,” the creep said. He reached out a hand and suddenly the bat flew out of her hand and into his. He gave it a lazy swing, breaking a nearby display case. “Say your goodbyes and ask for my forgiveness, and I’ll make this quick.”

“Casey, run."

“No way,” she said, looking around for a new weapon.

“Just go!” Gramps shoved her shoulder, pushing her through the swinging door to the store’s workroom. Behind her, she heard the shotgun go off, the boom echoing through the shop.

No, no, no, not Gramps, he was the only person she had left. Casey looked around wildly, searching for any kind of weapon. There was no way she was going to let that guy do anything to her grandfather. She had spotted a crowbar when suddenly the air in the workroom crackled and a ring of sparks appeared.

“What the hell!” she shrieked as a tall, lanky man stepped through the ring of fire, a red cape wafting around him like there was a breeze in the room. Which there totally wasn’t, and yeah, what was this LARP-ing schmuck with his fire circle doing here? Was he friends with the Arpath guy? He must’ve been, why would he have shown up here doing magic tricks otherwise?

“Ah,” the man said, turning toward her, “You aren’t Arpath.”

In return to that statement, Casey dove for the work table and started hurling tools at the freak in the cape. This was when it would be nice to have Spider-Man or that Daredevil guy from Hell’s Kitchen on speed dial. New York had an abundance of superheroes, but apparently you had to be out on the street to get some help.

“Get out of here!” she screamed, flinging a flathead screwdriver at the new weirdo. His cape popped up and deflected the screwdriver, just like it had guarded him against the first three tools she had tossed at him. Behind her, the gun went off again, and she heard Arpath’s deep laugh before the front doorbell sang its song. Someone must have left the shop.

“I don’t think you understand the situation,” the new guy said as he walked over to her. “I’m here to help, not to make things worse, though I would appreciate a warmer welcome.”

“And why should I believe you?” she demanded, grabbing the crow bar.

The man pulled his shoulders back, looking proud and determined. “Because I’m the only chance you and your grandfather have of surviving this evening.” He nodded to her. “I’m Doctor Strange. Now follow me, Casey Kinmont.”


	2. Chapter 2

Casey stared at the appropriately named Doctor Strange. How did he know who she was? How had he just appeared in the middle of the workroom? What was with the cloak? And what was with all the drama? She shook her head and pointed her crowbar at him. "I do _not_ have time for this, you psycho. Get lost."

The guy seemed taken aback by her lack of enthusiasm over his epic arrival and declaration. It wasn't like he was Captain America, so she wasn't sure what he was expecting. "I really am here to help. You need me for this since you'll have to admit it's a tad out of your league."

She wasn't going to stand here arguing with this guy. Backing up, she pushed through the swinging door and looked around the half-destroyed shop. The shotgun had done some serious damage by blowing out a hole in the front wall of the store, scattering memorabilia and bits of old baseball posters.

"Gramps!" she called as she stepped over shards of glass, hoping he would appear from behind one of the support beams, grumpy but just fine. Her heart immediately plummeted, and her hands tightened around the crowbar.

Her grandpa was gone.

That Arpath guy must've kidnapped him or worse. Casey snatched up her cellphone from the clerk's counter and started to dial 911, but the phone was plucked out of her hand by Mr. Weird.

"I know this is hard to understand, but that's not going to work," he said, but if he was going to say anything else, he was abruptly cut off as he had to dodge Casey's wicked crowbar swing. "Hey, what is with you?!"

"Give me that phone right now!" she demanded, taking another swing at him. She needed that phone so she could call back-up to rescue her grandpa, and this jerkwad was in her way with his attitude.

This time the crowbar collided with a sparky bar of light that Cape Guy held between his hands. He wrapped the light around the crowbar and pulled it out of her grip, catching it in his own right hand. Casey skittered back, looking for a new weapon, but a new rope of sparks appeared and wrapped around her legs, holding her fast. Don't panic, don't panic, act as if encountering magic ropes was an everyday, normal occurrence.

"All right, here is the deal. I'll let you go and give this back, but only if you promise not to try and hit me with it anymore," he said, extending the crowbar to her tentatively. He held up his free hand and pulled the crowbar back a little. "Also, you have to listen to me so you can understand what's happening."

Casey could have screamed, she was so frustrated, but she knew she was running out of time. Also, Cape Guy didn't seem interested in hurting her. He was just overly eager to help out or whatever, which probably meant he was a superhero hopeful trying to earn that cape he was wearing.

Outstanding.

"Fine, tell me what's going on," she finally said, "Please." There wasn't anything else she could do, and she needed to help her grandpa. He needed her, and she was wasting time with this guy unless he really could help. In any case, he wasn't going to let her go until he said his peace, so the faster she heard him out the quicker she could get away.

"You'll have to walk and listen if we're going to save your grandfather," he said, retracting the sparkler ropes from around her legs. He held the crowbar out to her. "Remember, use that against me and you lose it. Understand, Casey?"

"How do you know my name?" she asked as she took the crowbar from him, "Who _are_ you?"

"I told you, I'm Doctor Strange," he said, "Stephen Strange, M.D., if you want the full title. Come along." He pushed the door open and headed down the street, his clothes seeming to morph around him into jeans and a coat, something less ostentatious than the cloak outfit from earlier.

"What does the M.D. stand for?" Casey asked, having to jog to keep up with his ridiculously long stride, "Magical Demon?"

He snorted. "You're hilarious. But it is a demon of sorts that we're going after right now. More like an extra-dimensional monster from another universe but the term demon is rather applicable."

Whoa, wait. Trying to keep up with all this nonsense was going to give her a migraine. She just wanted to get her grandpa and go back to her boring existence where her biggest worries were crushes and working after school. She didn't want to hear about demons from a doctor/magician.

"I need a little more explanation," she said, "Why wouldn't you let me call the cops? How did you know any of this was going on? And where's my grandpa?" That was the only truly important question right now.

"The cops don't deal with mystical criminal events."

"And you do."

"Yes. It's part of my job."

"Tell me exactly what's going on. _Now_."

"It'll take too long to explain everything, and you probably won't believe it anyway."

Casey grabbed his arm and tugged, forcing him to look at her for a moment as they walked. "Then give me the short, semi-believable version."

There was a moment where she thought he wasn't going to tell her everything, but he eventually nodded and then plucked her glasses off her face.

Automatically pausing, Casey wondered if she should start swinging at random with the crowbar. However, she didn't want to smash her glasses in the process. Everything was blurry, but she could make out Strange as well as a swirl of yellow blossoming around his hand. "Give those back."

"One moment, I need to focus," he said, "Try to remember not to hit me with the crowbar."

Oh, but she really wanted to hit him now. "You're making that hard to keep in mind." She was seriously considering it when he gently put the glasses back on her nose, tucking the arms back behind her ears. He was back in his swirling cape and blue get-up, but around the edges of her glasses, she still saw the jeans and jacket outfit. "What'd you do to my glasses?"

"It's a temporary truth spell that will allow you to see past illusions," he said as if that was a totally normal thing to say to someone. "It might train your eyes to see them without the glasses as well, but I doubt it."

"A spell? Like a real spell?" That sounded stupid when she said it out loud, but that's honestly what it sounded like he was saying. "Like Harry Potter."

"No. Sort of. Well, yes and no. We call them spells, but that's not exactly what they are." He waved a hand through the air and a small yellow circle with a pale arrow in the middle appeared before him. "This way." He took off down an alley, leaving Casey to chase after him. "How would you feel if I told you that we're one universe out of thousands, and those thousands are referred to as the multiverse? And that if you can harness the power of the multiverse, you can perform spells that affect our own universe in ways that seem magical?"

"I'd ask you what you were smoking," she grumbled. "Look, how does any of that craziness apply to what's going on right now?" She had to rescue her grandpa, not deal with some magic-wielding Warcraft nutcase, even if he did seem to be making a little sense.

"Because the monster that your grandfather is currently fighting is a demon from the multiverse who hates your family," Strange said, glancing over at her, "Your parents were a part of a group that sealed him away before you were born, and now he's back for revenge."

"My parents were real estate agents," Casey said shortly, "So they weren't performing any spells."

"Eh, that's only partially true," Strange said, "They were a sorcerer and sorceress before they were real estate agents."

"Stop," she said, shooting him a glare, "Just stop. You don't know anything about my parents."

"I do too," he said, halting in the middle of the sidewalk. People pushed around them, heads down, ignoring any weirdness. He hesitated before putting his hand on her shoulder. "I know this is hard, but you have to trust me, Casey. I know a great deal about you and your family, and I'll explain all of that later, but you have to believe me right now when I say we have to act fast. Your grandfather only knows a couple spells. Arpath is most likely using him to lure you out after he realized I was at the shop."

"So, this is your fault?"

"No."

Casey shrugged his hand off her shoulder and looked up at the dark grey sky. If any of this was true, she couldn't rescue her grandpa on her own. There were so many things she didn't understand, like the part her parents played in all of this and what the multiverse was and how magic worked. She needed help. "Ugh…" She put her arm over her eyes, making a snap decision. "Is this the part where you say, 'you're a wizard, Casey?'"

"Oh, hardly," Strange said, "For one, we're sorcerers, not wizards, and two, we don't need wands."

Casey took a deep breath and crossed her arms tightly, as if to brace herself for what she was about to do. "Okay. What's the plan then?"

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Actually, not to alarm you or anything, but I'm making up the plan as we go," Strange said calmly, "Now come on, and stop wasting time." He started to walk again, keeping up a quick pace that had her jogging once more.

Casey wanted to haul back and punch him in the shoulder, but she somehow restrained herself. "Wait, wait, wait, so, what, you just magic-ed your way into the shop without any idea of what you were going to do next?"

"I had an _idea_ , exactly like I have one now. It's just not an elaborate, detailed plan." They took a turn, following whatever magical GPS system he was using to guide them. "We're going to catch up to Arpath and your grandfather and then proceed to eject Arpath back to his dimension using a temporary vortex. Simple."

"Oh, yeah, _so_ simple." This was insane. This guy was insane, the situation was insane, the demon guy was insane. None of this made any sense, and knowing that her only current source of assistance didn't really have a solid plan wasn't at all encouraging. "Can't we call Spiderboy? Or do you know anyone else?"

"No, not really. And I might need your help," Strange said as they came to a quiet alley. They slowed down, but he kept striding forward purposefully, the flowing cape giving him an official kind of appearance. Casey walked beside him in her hoodie and stylish ripped blue jeans, looking far less impressive but less like a lost cosplayer.

She shook her head. "Like what? I can swing a bat pretty good." Or her crowbar. She did still have that, after all.

"That's not what I had in mind. More like I need you to be bait."

Sorry? Ahaha, nope, no way, she wasn't a damsel in distress or anything. She was a A-B average mall rat plus baseball player type who worked in a memorabilia store, and she was a badass. Nothing weak about her, nothing bait-ish. "I think I'd be better off smacking at him with the crowbar."

"We're almost there." Strange stopped by a pair of trashcans and turned toward her. "Crowbars aren't exactly useful weapons against interdimensional monsters. But if you can't do this, it's all right. Maybe I can recreate a look-alike dummy."

That bit of doubt made Casey bristle. "Fine. Teach me to be bait, Dumbledore."

He lifted an eyebrow but didn't fuss at her. Maybe they were running out of time for that, which made her more nervous. He held up his right hand, and she noticed his shaking fingers. Huh, not exactly the most steady of hands. Was he nervous too?

Oh geez, was this his first time being a superhero for real? Oh man, they were probably going to die. Not awesome.

He gestured toward her, and she was able to see a shimmering mist cover her, wrapping her up tight even though she couldn't actually feel it. "That'll shield you from some of his fire if he gets angry. I just need you to go up to that blue door over there and try to get him to come out. You're the one he's really after, so he should leave your grandfather behind when he sees you. I'll set a trap for when he emerges."

Fire? What... "And you really think that's going to work?" Casey asked, brushing at the golden shimmer on her skin. She lifted her glasses for a second, and the shimmer disappeared before reappearing when she lowered her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.

Strange nodded. "I'd honestly rather not put you in danger, but if I go in first, I'm afraid he might take out his frustration on your grandfather." He looked down at her. "I'll be right behind you, Casey. I won't let anything happen to you."

Her voice trembled a little. "You know, on TV shows when people say that, something always happens. Makes for good angst."

"Good thing this isn't a TV show." He smiled a little, and she gave him a feeble smile back.

"Yeah, guess so." She gripped her crowbar tighter even if it wouldn't do her any good. Gramps needed her. Before she could lose her nerve and running screaming in the other direction, she stepped toward the door, crowbar raised. Now, how exactly did you get a demon dude to come out of his hiding place without killing your grandpa…

Casey started banging on the door with the crowbar. "Hey, you bastard, get out here! I've got something for your face, right here, right now!"

Nothing.

She slammed the crowbar against the door a few more times. "What, are you scared? That's right, you better be!" Because she was so big and bad, and totally not trembling so much her teeth were chattering.

The door starting glowing red and then melted away, nearly oozing onto Casey's sneakers before she stumbled back. A huge six-fingered hand wrapped around the smoldering remains of the doorframe. Oh.

_Ohhh._

The spell on her glasses let her see Arpath for what he really was, and the sight made her want to scream and throw up and pass out, maybe all at once. It took all of her will power to not jump back further.

"Hello, little Kinmont."

The demon wasn't enormous, but it wasn't his size that made him terrifying. He seemed to be carved entirely out of magma, his skin cracking and oozing, covered in gaping wounds that seeped lava. His eyes were black sockets with bits of glinting flame embedded deep down near the roots. A tail like a scorpion's whipped over his head, and the venom that dripped out of the scythe-like point seared the ground when it fell.

"Looking for this, child?" The tail wound back inside the door, and when it reappeared, her grandpa was wrapped in the thick coils, the venom-laced point hovering near his neck.

Fear shot through Casey like she had grabbed an electric fence, and she lowered the crowbar. "Don't hurt him."

"Now who's the scared one?" the monster asked, taking a step toward her. "Can you see me as I am? Has your talent awakened?" The asphalt beneath him crackled and bubbled, melting at the touch of his bare feet. "Come to me, child, and I'll let the old man go."

Her grandpa was the only family member she had left in the world. She couldn't let anything happen to him, not if she could help it. Plus she had the fire protection spell from Strange, so that had to mean something, right? Where was he, anyways? "You promise?"

"Would you like to make a bargain?" The suggestion sounded more frightening than anything he had said yet.

"Casey, get…out of here," her grandpa said, struggling to speak as the coils of the monster's tail wrap tighter around him. "Don't—" He cried out as the stinger came closer to his neck, almost brushing his skin.

The space demon grinned. "Bargain or no bargain?"

Her jaw tight with anger and helplessness, Casey tossed the crowbar to the ground and held up her hands. "Let him go, and we can talk."

"As you wish." Arpath's tail loosened suddenly, and Gramps dropped to the ground. Casey held out a hand to him, wanting him to come to her.

"Casey, move!" It was Strange's voice, finally. Didn't have to tell her twice. Casey leaped toward her grandpa and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the side as light and power surged past the two of them. They rolled on the ground, and Casey shielded Gramps as Arpath roared, releasing a stream of lava from his mouth right at the funny-dressed sorcerer. At the same time, a golden net seemed to reached out and trap Arpath, keeping him in place.

"Strange!" she yelled as the man disappeared under the torrent of lava. She was wide-eyed when he reappeared a second later, bending down to haul both her and her grandfather to their feet.

"Time for you to go," he said, moving his hands so that a flashy circle appeared behind them. He motioned for them to go in.

"You one of them magic types?" Gramps asked Strange, looking him up and down, "The real deal? Like my boy was?"

"Yes," Strange said, "But we can chat later, after I deal with this...mess." He motioned back to where Arpath was struggling with the golden net, ripping through each strand.

Gramps looked at Casey and then back at Strange. "You can't. Ain't nothing you can do about him. Only us Kinmonts can do anything now. We've got the right blood for binding him."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about but I can assure you, I can handle this," Strange said.

"No, you can't, you smartass," Gramps said and then put his hand on Strange's arm. "Look, you take care of her. Teach her what she needs to know. Keep her safe, or so help me, I'll come back and haunt you."

"Sir?"

"Gramps?" Casey said, staring at him, "Come on, let's go."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Love you, kid. I can't do much, but I'm gonna buy you a couple years. Learn a lot, okay?"

"Wha—no!" She screamed as he suddenly ran from them, his hands making a symbol in the air while he yelled something in a language she had never heard before. Casey started to go after him, but at the same time, the bonds on Arpath's net broke and he lunged for Gramps. Light exploded from space where they met and it rushed at them in a wave. Casey was barely aware of Strange grabbing her and pulling his cloak over both on them, his back turned toward the explosion.

When the light faded, she shoved him away, staring at where her grandfather had been. There was a symbol burned onto the ground, a square with markings in the middle of it, but her grandpa was gone. So was Arpath.

Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that her grandpa wasn't coming back, and that she was reason he was gone. He had saved her, he had protected her, like he always did.

Tears flowed down her face as she sat down on the street, the strength gone out of her legs. A warm weight settled on her shoulders and something soft and gentle brushed her cheek and then covered her head like a hood. The cloak. Stephen had put his cloak around her. She cried harder, pulling the cloak over her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the empty space in her life.


	4. Chapter 4

Casey mentally checked out.

She just couldn't handle everything. Her grandpa was gone, her parents had been magic-wielders, there was a demon was a grudge, a guy in a cloak, magic was real, her life as she knew it was over, she would never see Gramps again, he was gone—

Vaguely, she registered Stephen pulling her to her feet and guiding her over to a set of stairs where she could sit out of the way. While he called the police and put some kind of illusion over the street to make the scene less otherworldly, Casey sat like a girl carved out of granite, heavy and cold. The cloak tightened around her shoulders as if it was hugging her, but she felt like someone else was being comforted by its warmth, not her.

Her tears stopped abruptly as she stared at the spot where her grandfather had disappeared. This wasn't happening. It was a nightmare, it was just a nightmare, right. Right. Yes.

She was going to have to tell her grandpa about it when she woke up. He was probably going to think she needed psychiatric help or something, but hey, maybe she did. This was a pretty disturbing dream, after all.

Eventually the cloak unwound from her shoulders and drifted back over to Stephen. The cloak probably came from watching Aladdin. There was a certain Magic Carpet feeling to the cloak, so that part of her dream was most likely inspired by that movie.

She wasn't sure where Stephen came from, but maybe the demon came a horror movie she had watched back in October. This was all explainable. 

"Casey?"

She looked up at her salt-and-pepper haired figment of imagination. "Yeah?"

"The police are going to be here soon…" He sat down on the step beside her. Wow, what a detailed dream. He even looked concerned. "I'm going to tell them that your grandfather chased a thief out of his shop and lost his life in the pursuit. That's more believable than what really happened."

"Okay." It wasn't like it actually mattered anyway, seeing how this was a dream world. Stephen could tell the imaginary police whatever bogus excuse he wanted because her Gramps was just fine and this was all a wisp of a night terror that would disappear in a few moments.

Casey considered pinching herself, but she doubted that would work. She would just be pinching her dream self anyways, which most likely wouldn't force her to wake up.

"Is there anyone I should call? Maybe an aunt or an uncle?"

"Nope. It's all right. I'll go home in a little while." AKA, she would wake up and it would be back to normal.

Stephen reached over and touched her arm for a second. "I think we should call someone."

"No, nah, it's fine." She stood up and skipped off the steps, spreading her arms wide. "This is just temporary, anyways." When he simply stared, his eyes all sympathetic, she turned away from him and walked forward, pretending to balance on a crack in the pavement. "It's okay. This is all just a dream or something."

"I think you're in shock."

Casey ignored him and focused on balancing on the crack. Step on a crack, break your mother's back. Except her mother was already dead. And so was her dad. And she didn't have any family besides her grandfather, so of course she would have a nightmare about losing him, too.

Soon the wail of police sirens filled the air, and then the place was swarming with cops, firemen, and the EMS. All the emergency vehicles apparently fit inside her dream world. She sat on the back of the EMS and let the EMTs look her over while Stephen told them his version of what had happened to Gramps.

She had a feeling that if she took off her glasses, he wouldn't look anything like how he actually appeared. Illusion magic or whatever was in play, or it would've been if any of this was real.

There were too many details. There was no way a dream could be this elaborate, but Casey wanted to cling to the idea that all of this was fake. That it couldn't be happening. She overheard Stephen's explanation and knew there was something about fake bodies and stuff. Some kind of staged scene that Stephen had created to cover up the truth.

But no, no there wasn't anything true here. Because that would mean that Gramps really was never coming back…

The police wrapped her in a blanket, took her down to the station and asked her a few questions. She answered them quietly, repeating back the answers that she had heard Stephen give earlier. They asked about her family, and she shook her head, not wanting to answer any more. There wasn't anyone, not that it mattered.

When they were finished with her, they let her sit in a waiting area with a cup of coffee that was didn't drink. It was hot, almost burning her fingers through the Styrofoam.

Casey looked down at the coffee and then stuck her pointer finger into the searing heat. Apparently that fire proof spell had worn off. Pain bit at her finger, but she kept it in the drink, trying to force herself to wake up.

It hurt so much. And she still didn't wake up.

Trembling fingers reached down and pulled the cup out of her hands. She looked up to see Stephen standing there.

"I did some mystical paperwork finagling, and now I'm your long-lost uncle," he said, bending down so that he was on her level. "Your grandpa asked me to look after you, so I'm going to do that." He shook his head slowly. "Not that I have any idea how to do that, mind you. But my first rule is that you're not allowed to hurt yourself."

Casey looked at her burned finger and then up at him. "I still want it to be a dream."

"I know," he said. He sat the cup down on a desk. "Come on, you need to get some rest."

She forced herself to stand up, wishing that she didn't have to take the next few steps. She wanted to argue, to say that he wasn't responsible for her, that she could take care of herself, but right now, she wasn't sure she could.


	5. Chapter 5

After Stephen collected her from the police station, Casey was despondent, distant, and silent. They went back to Casey and Gramps' home, where neighbors and friends were already waiting.

It was like walking through a fog of condolences, niceties, and 'so-sorry's.' She hardly paid any attention to them, letting all the pointless words roll off her. They were just here to make themselves feel better anyways.

The first day was spent in bed, listening to music and pretending that everyone would go away if she waited long enough. Someone came in to ask her about funeral arrangements, and she didn't answered a single question that the woman had asked. The funeral director finally gave up, grabbed her notebook, and slipped back out of the room. The day passed into twilight and then night.

The funeral was the next evening. Casey had come out of her room and wandered around like a living mannequin, not talking to anyone or eating anything, just going through the motions. Casey didn't want to go to the funeral. It wasn't really her grandfather's ashes in that urn. It was the ashes of whatever Stephen had conjured up to look like him. Stephen had said she could stay behind, that it was her choice, but then some of her grandfather's friends had put up a fuss, saying she would regret it later. To shut them up, she had gone to the funeral.

It was quick and simple, like her grandpa would've preferred. Actually, he probably would've preferred to not die by sacrificing himself to a fire demon in the first place… And none of that was mentioned at the funeral, of course. He was called brave and honest and selfless, but no one knew exactly how true those words were except Casey and Stephen.

She slept the whole day after the funeral, only waking up when Stephen came in to try and force her to eat something. He tried regular food and then wound up leaving snacks and water bottles on her nightstand. She drank a water bottle but ignored the food. Sleeping felt so much better than facing everything. She guessed that she just wasn't brave enough to move on, so she decided that she was a coward. A sleepy one.

Eventually Stephen left his funny cloak with her. It flopped over her like a second blanket and petted her hair, which make it impossible to stay awake anyways.

Casey woke up the next afternoon to find a grumpy-looking magician standing at her bedside holding a laptop. She rolled over, ignoring him, but he simply sat the laptop on the space that she had vacated and opened it up.

"If you don't pick something for delivery and eat all of it and drink at least two glasses of water with it, I'm going to take you to an ER and get a friend to give you an IV."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Casey, this isn't a joke," Stephen said. She glanced over her shoulder to see him pinch the bridge of his nose. "I know you're in pain, but remember that rule I have about not hurting yourself? You're starving yourself, which counts."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're depressed."

"And not hungry."

"Pick out something you like. I'll order. Sit up."

When she didn't move, he grabbed her pillow and pulled it out from under her head. She sat up and glared at him, but he simply thrust one of the water bottles from her nightstand into her hands.

"I'll choose something, then. And since I think you're dehydrated, you're going to drink all of that while we wait for it to arrive. Then we'll talk about our plan while you eat an entire lunch." He sat down in her fluffy purple chair and started clicking around on the computer, looking for local delivery places she guessed.

Casey wanted to get up and pour the water over his head to teach him a lesson about being so bossy, but she supposed he had a point. She didn't want him to tell her that her grandfather would be disappointed in the way she was acting, since she already knew that. He hadn't given his life just so she could waste away in bed, even if that sounded like exactly what she wanted to do.

Twisting the top off the water bottle, she took a long sip and then another one. She pressed a few pillows up against the headboard and settled her back against them. "I like Thai food."

"Mmm." Stephen clicked around some more while she took a few more sips from her water bottle.

By the time a few delivery bags from Thai Blossom arrived at the door, Casey had emerged from her bedroom and was sitting on the couch watching a bad Netflix movie and drinking her second bottle of water. The cloak was laying across the back of the couch, and it seemed like it was watching the movie as well.

"Here," Stephen said, handing her a tray of Pad Thai and vegetables with a disposable fork. He settled on the other end of the couch with a tray of his own. "This movie is awful."

"Hey, what did you mean earlier when you mentioned plans?"

"Eat, Casey," he said, point to her tray with his fork.

Grudgingly, Casey started nibbling at the Pad Thai before eating large bites. She hadn't had much besides crackers for the past few days, and now she realized that she actually was pretty ravenous.

"By plans, I meant what we're going to do next," Stephen said, "We've been staying here, but I think it's time for you to move into the Sanctum."

Wait, he had been staying here? She noticed the blankets folded up in the nearby armchair, along with a couple pillows on top. Oh, so he had been sleeping on the couch. That was pretty nice of him.

She didn't really want to move, but she also realized she couldn't stay in the apartment. One, she couldn't afford to live on her own, and two, the place would just remind her of Gramps every day. The place was really more his than hers, seeing how it was covered in baseball memorabilia and pictures.

"What's the Sanctum?" she asked before taking a sip of water, "Sounds weird."

"Because we've established that everything about me is so normal," Stephen said, almost making Casey smile. "The Sanctum Sanctorum is my home here in New York. It also helps protect the planet, but that's a little more complicated to explain. It's basically a place for studying the mystical arts, so it's also a good place to start your training."

"You really want me to learn magic?" she asked.

He nodded. "I think you might be a natural." He pointed to her glasses. "Those still have the spell on them, and that should have started fading by now but I think you're keeping it going, somehow."

Oh. Weird. She didn't think she had been doing anything. She just knew she didn't want the spell to go away, not if it meant she couldn't see the world as it actually was anymore. "I guess I could try." Her parents had been magic people, after all, and her grandpa had known a spell or too. Maybe it really was in her blood, and she owed it to them to try to live her life to the fullest.

"Maybe you'll like it."

"Or maybe I'll be a Squib."

"What?"

Casey sighed. "I hope this Sanctum has a DVD player because you're going to need an education in Harry Potter."

Stephen smiled a little, as if he was glad that she had finally cracked a joke again. "I can look into it."


	6. Chapter 6

The statue was looking at her. No, really. It was staring at her with stone eyes, and every time she made a move, those eyes followed her. She could hear them grating against the granite eye sockets as they turned.

Ew.

It had been two days since she had moved into the Sanctum, and this was the first day she had decided to explore. So far, she had only been to her room, her bathroom, and the kitchen. The essentials. But today, she actually felt like roaming around the house instead of staying in her room watching Netflix.

Stephen had a few guidelines when she had moved in, like how she shouldn't touch anything and if a door was locked, do not go into that room. Also she should keep to the first two floors since she was less likely to get lost.

So of course she had gone to the third floor.

Officially, she wasn't lost right now. She was in the Sanctum, so that narrowed down where she was. It was simply that she wouldn't be able to explain to anyone, including herself, how to get back to her room at this point. Maybe she had entered a different dimension. Whatever, she would find her way back eventually. Or not.

Hey, if she never made it back, she wouldn't have to go to school tomorrow. Stephen had said at breakfast that morning that she had to go on Monday because otherwise the school would probably call social services or something. She didn't really see the point of doing calculus and writing papers about Shakespearean sonnets right now, but the school system thought differently.

So far, she had been up on the third floor for about three hours, or that's what she thought. Maybe she was running on Rip Van Winkle time and centuries were passing by.

Casey wandered away from the stone statue creeper, moving from one room into another. This one had mauve walls and a few enormous pillows scattered around. There was a complicated symbol on the ceiling, seemingly etched there in silver. She flopped down on one of the massive pillows and laid back to look at the design. It seemed to suck her in and invite her to contemplate the mysteries of life, as if that was something she did on a regular basis.

"I hope you know that ceiling is cursed."

Casey turned her head to the side, not bothering to get up. Stephen was in the doorway, looking peeved. "You're lying."

"Yes, but it does have a spell of concentration on it," he said as he stepped into the room, "So you could be up here for hours and not realize it."

Casey rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the ceiling again. "I thought the whole floor was like that."

"Like what?"

"A time warp," Casey offered.

"Sit up. Please," Stephen said, though it sounded more like a command than a request. Casey huffed and pushed herself up onto her elbows and then forced herself to sit upright.

"What?"

"I told you not to go past the second floor," Stephen said, "What wasn't clear about that?"

"I was bored," she said with a shrug.

"Look, I'm glad that you're finally emerging from your room and moving around, but this isn't a normal house."

"Whoa, I totally couldn't tell that," Casey teased sarcastically, motioning toward the supposedly bespelled ceiling, the massive pillows, and Stephen's own get-up. Maybe he just found tunics and trousers comfortable, but he looked like he had stepped out of a some kind of Arabian Nights fairy tale.

"I'm serious," he said, "There're things in this house that could kill you. Or transport you somewhere that would take me days to find you, if I could find you at all." He looked down at her sternly. "You don't want to get turned inside out just because you're curious, do you?"

"There's something here that can do that?" Casey tilted her head to the side. "Do you enjoy living in a death trap?"

"Most of that is locked away."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"Casey." She could tell by his annoyed tone that she had pushed him a little too far. "I'm going to train you. Then you'll be able to handle everything in this house or most of it. Until then, I need you to trust me and not become a sarcastic teenager about everything."

But that's exactly what she was. She decided not to point that out verbally but instead she gave him a look that screamed it out for her silently.

Stephen sighed and sat down on a pillow across from her. "Can you at least agree not to go roaming this floor or any others above it until I say it's okay?"

She shrugged. "Fine. But I get free rein of the first and second floors, so if you've got anything worse than a Chinese finger trap down there, you might want to move it."

Stephen closed and rubbed his temples, and she had a feeling she was really trying his patience. "Fine."

Silence dropped between them. Casey glanced over at the wizard, who looked like he was trying to conjure up some extra endurance to be able to deal with her. She hadn't asked him to look after her. It was her grandpa's last request, but he didn't even know this guy. She barely knew him, actually.

She had been too wrapped up in her grief, which was still pressing at the back of her mind. Each time she thought of Gramps, she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. But she knew she couldn't give into that urge every time, otherwise she would never move forward and her grandpa wouldn't have forgiven her for that.

"What's your favorite movie?"

"What?" Stephen looked up, eyes cautious.

"Mine's Legally Blonde," she offered.

"Uh…The Godfather," he answered.

"What, it's not Lord of the Rings? The Sword in the Stone? Wizard of OZ?"

"If that was the case, you'd have to switch your favorite movie to The Sorcerer's Apprentice," Stephen said, his tone droll.

Casey snorted. "Touché."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 8.8.17: Previously I had Peter Parker appear in this scene, but I've changed it after watching Spider-Man: Homecoming. He'll appear in the series soon, though!

Casey flung herself into her seat in fourth period and leaned against the wide desk, resting her chin on her folded arms. Today was her first full day back at school. The only thing that was keeping her from skipping was Stephen Strange's threats to find her and drag her back to class in his modern day grown-up version of the karate kid outfit. The potential embarrassment was enough to keep her in her seat.

"Hey, Casey."

She glanced at her desk partner as he slid onto the stool beside hers. "Hey, Liam."

He set his laptop on the desk and opened it up, fidgeting with some of the keys. Casey smiled just a little at his nervous energy, knowing he was actually looking forward to the class. Stanley Academy was a school for gifted kids, and the only reason Casey was there because she was in the advanced social studies track.

"Look, I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times today, but I really am sorry about your grandpa," he said, "I get it."

"Thanks..." she said, recognizing the empathy in his tone. She knew she should've been more accepting, but she was getting tired of saying 'thanks' to people. What else was she supposed to say?  

Their teacher walked into class, followed by the last few stranglers, which prompted Casey to zone out. Sure, Stephen could force her to come to school but he couldn't make her focus.

Or so she thought.

She was watching Liam type up notes when she noticed her pencil start rolling across their desk on its own. It wasn't like the desk was tilted or the room was off-kilter and neither of them had touched the pencil since the beginning of class. Casey narrowed her eyes.

The pencil rolled over toward the notebook she had dragged out of her backpack after the teacher had arrived and bumped against it.

"Looks like Molly's here," Liam whispered, referencing the school's obligatory ghost story.

"Guess so," Casey said.

Her pencil rolled away from the notebook again and then bumped against it, more insistent this time. What? Casey raised an eyebrow and looked around, wondering if someone was playing a joke on her. The pencil did it again, so she grabbed it, twirling it in her fingers.

Now that the pencil was under control, the notebook paper rustled. Or it did until she sat the tip of her pencil on the page. Then the paper seemed the calm down.

What was going on? Oh, wait… No way… Casey wrote a few notes and then set her pencil to the side again, far away from her notebook. After a few minutes, the pencil rolled back toward her and bumped against her fingers, insistent.

"That's just weird," Liam said. He glanced around as Casey silently fumed, gripping the pencil tightly enough to crack it. So that's how it was going to be.

"I have to go," she said, rapidly packing her things.

"Ms. Kinmont? Is everything all right?" the teacher asked, putting her hands on her hips, her expression concerned.

"I have to go," Casey repeated, flinging the pencil and notebook into her bag. Rage bubbled under her skin, making her disregard Stephen's threats and ignore her classmates' stares.

Liam's eyebrows were inching up toward his hairline. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just—need to take care of something." She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out to the sounds of her classmates talking about her.

"I'll send you the homework!" Liam yelled after her as the door slammed behind her.

Fury carried Casey down the hallway, out the door, and into the bright chilly afternoon. She was going to punch Stephen Strange in the face the next time she saw him. Or at least she was going to kick him in the shin.

There was a yellow and orange flash of a sling ring portal as she passed by an empty alleyway, and suddenly Stephen was walking beside her with his long-legged lope. Instead of his weirdo clothes, he was wearing jeans and rumpled blue button-down. "What did I say about skipping class?"

Casey whipped to the side and aimed a kick at his legs, but he stepped back, easily avoiding her attack.

"Hey, calm down—"

She started to kick at him again and then settled for balling her hands into fists. "I can't believe you were keeping tabs on me at school! Who does that?!"

"What?" he said, seeming to be honestly confused that she was upset, "I wanted to make sure you were all right on your first day back."

"Then you should've texted or emailed! Not…what was that, anyway?" she demanded. She pointed a finger at him, forcing him to take a step back unless he wanted her to jab him in the chest. "How did you move my stuff?"

"Astral projection and kinetic manipulation," he answered, "And I wouldn't have had to intervene if you had actually been paying attention in class."

"That's not the point." Casey gave a growl of frustration and started to walk, not really caring where she was going but knowing she wanted to get away from him. Still he followed her, easily keeping up with her.

"What is the point, then?" he asked, "Look, I knew today might be tough for you, and I wanted to help—"

"That doesn't give you the right to spy on me all day long," she snapped. Pain welled up in her chest, warring with the sadness that was already there.

"It wasn't all day."

"How am I supposed to know that?! You can't do that. It's not okay, and it'll make me feel like I'm under magical house arrest or something."

They walked in silence as it started to snow, little pitiful flakes swirling through the air. A couple landed on Casey's cheek, and she wanted to wipe them away but she was worried Stephen would think she was crying. She definitely wasn't, she was just incredibly irritated.

Stephen eventually sighed and rubbed a hand across his face as they paused at a crosswalk. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Well, it wasn't," Casey said. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and glared at the crosswalk light, willing it to change. The instant before it switched, she stormed forward, nearly getting taken out by a bike messenger.

"Pay attention!" Stephen's hand shot out and yanked her back before she could get clipped, and he gripped her arm firmly, keeping her in place. "Hey, I'm…" He rolled his shoulder as if it was a difficult thing to say and then frowned at her, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm new to this whole guardian thing, and I thought I was doing the right thing. Let me make mistakes every now and then."

"So does that mean you're going to trust me in the future?" she said, glowering up at him. "How am I supposed to know that you're not astral projecting and stuff and spying on me?"

"For now, you'll just have to trust me, too," Stephen said, "But I'll teach you how to do it. That way you can know for sure that I'm not keeping an eye on you."

"Spying."

"Watching closely with concern."

Casey glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "Promise."

"Yeah, sure. We'll start your training tonight. It's not going to be easy, you know."

That was fine with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The magic rules in this fic may vary slightly from the real rules of the comics or the magic MCU rules. I try to keep them mostly in line, but eh, I'll probably wiffle-waffle sometimes.

Okay, so, astral projection was pretty awesome. While her body was laying on a comfy pile of pillows downstairs, Casey's astral self was moving around the second floor of the Sanctum, drifting through display cases and walls.

It gave a whole new meaning to wandering soul.

"Don't go far," Stephen said. He was walking beside her, still in his physical body, but he was using a spell so that she was visible to him. "You'll tire yourself out."

It was the third day of her astral projection lessons, and this was the first time he had let her move out of the room her body was in. Apparently she needed to stay mentally grounded in the now or something like that so that her astral self didn't become separated from her physical form.

"I'm not going to do the whole severing thing. I'm definitely coming back to my body since, y'know, I'm partial to it," Casey said, floating on her back. She raised up to the ceiling and stood upside down beside one of the light fixtures. "It's dusty up here, by the way."

"You have to keep thinking about the physical plane of this dimension," he said, ignoring her comment.

"Do you know how New Age that sounds?" she asked, "Next you're going to want me to use a crystal to focus my chi or something."

"You're mixing things up," Stephen said, "And you won't be using crystals yet, you're not ready."

"Oh, you're serious?" Casey did a backflip off the ceiling and landed beside her guardian. She smirked up at him then floated up so that she was eye-level to him. He was too tall, anyways, she always had to look up at him. "I was kidding."

"There's a lot you don't know about the world of sorcery yet, and you shouldn't take it so lightly."

"And you were always gung-ho seriously sold out on it and never questioned any of it?" Casey let herself drifted around him in a slow circle. "I reeeeally doubt that."

"There's a whole respect component that comes into play," Stephen said, crossing his arms over his chest, "You're not there yet."

Casey sighed. "I'm trying, okay? It's all just really weird. I mean, look at me." She waved her arms through the air and shot back up toward the ceiling. "I'm a transparent ghost girl." Suddenly an idea popped into her mind about how useful this could be at school. While she wasn't much of a prankster, a few excellent scenarios came to mind. She could totally make the school ghost come alive.

"Hey, I don't like that look," Stephen said, point a finger at her, "The only time you're allowed to go astral is in this sanctum until I say otherwise."

Casey gave him a long look, debating the amount of sway he actually held over her. He was, in fact, her legal guardian according to the papers he had forged via magic. And if she didn't follow his rules, he wouldn't teach her any more magic.

While the whole situation was odd as all get out, she did want to learn magic, even if she complained while doing so. Revenge wasn't her style, though if she got the chance, she might take a page out of a certain hero team's book and avenge her grandpa. But first and foremost, she wanted to defend herself as well as others and keep them from becoming orphans like she had due to extradimensional monsters or aliens or whatever they were.

"Fine, fine, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. She shot back up toward the ceiling and zipped around the light fixtures, finally coming to a stop on top of one of the display cases. "Hey, when do I get my own cape?"

"It's a cloak, and I don't make that decision," he said, "The relic chooses the user. But in any case, I don't think there are any other cloaks of levitation just hanging around for petulant teenagers to wear."

Casey rolled her eyes at him and then grinned. "But you're not sure."

Stephen half-smiled. "No, I guess I'm not. I haven't even found out who made this one." He touched the edge of his cloak, and it wrapped around his hand affectionately. Most of the time he didn't wear the cloak while he was in the Sanctum, but sometimes it clung to him anyways.

"It's like your own personal magic carpet from Aladdin," Casey said. She sat up on top of the display case and swung her leg back and forth.

"That's a bit juvenile for a real metaphor," Stephen protested.

"I think it works," she said, shrugging. "How do I get a relic?"

"It's different for everyone, and each relic makes choices in its own way."

"Do you know that for sure? Or are you making it up?"

Stephen smirked at her. "I try to not lie to you very often."

It wasn't that she didn't know he kept stuff from her. It was just frustrating knowing that he really did lie to her sometimes. How was she supposed to fully trust him? Of course, all adults lied sometimes, didn't they…

"See, it's that 'very often' part that bugs me."

Casey jumped down from the display case and let herself drift through the floor. It was like having x-ray vision for a moment as she passed through the floors, and she could almost see the protective spells that were woven into the very materials that were used to create the building. It was like a slight imaginary flickering in her eyes. Now that she was properly learning sorcery, she was beginning to feel the weight of the magic in the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Slipping out of the astral plane and back into her body, Casey sat up, suddenly ravenous. Whether or not everyone else felt the same way, she was always hungry after messing around on the astral plane.

"Do you want to order out?" Stephen called from the stairs. He must've guessed she was about to start fussing about food.

Standing up, she stretched, reaching from one side to the other. How much money did they have to waste on delivery? Stephen didn't seem to cook and she wasn't exactly a culinary expert herself, so they had been either getting take-out or delivery or eating out since she had arrived.

"I sort of want something homecooked," she said as she walked into the foyer, sounding like the petulant teenager that accused her of being.

He stared at her like she had suggested going to the moon. "Uh…"

"Isn't cooking sort of like science? You were a doctor, you should be able to cook." She put her hands on her hips, trying to not become too hangry and tear his head off.

"I'm still a doctor and that's a stretch, kid," he said. Leaning against the banister, he crossed his arms over his chest. She could practically see the little sparks of ideas bouncing around his head. Finally, he looked at her. "What time is it?"

"You wear a watch," she protested even as she fished her cell out of her hoodie pocket. "It's almost eight thirty." No wonder she was so hungry, it was a lot later than she had thought. That afterschool snack at the hotdog cart had been hours ago.

An odd smile crossed Stephen's face. "What do you think about breakfast for dinner?"

"I don't really want Waffle House," she said, frowning at him.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he said. He used his sling ring to create a sparking, swirling portal in the middle of the stairs, but she wasn't at the right angle to see what was on the other side. She was, however, curious. "I think it's about time you met a few of my, er, colleagues."

"Are we going to Hogwarts?" she said, trudging up the stairs.

He gestured for her to step inside the portal, and now she could see the light dawn sky on the other side of the portal. There was a stone courtyard and a few people in familiar robe-ish outfits. "Try Kathmandu."

"What?! Stephen, hold on, I have homework—"

She didn't get to finish her sentence as he abruptly pushed her through the portal and onto the other side of the world.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've gone back and edited a few things! I took out the part about Peter Parker for now, since I saw Spider-Man: Homecoming, and I have a much better idea for introducing him and Casey. Just a heads up!

Casey held her arms out to the side as she stumbled into a stone courtyard with a grey dawn sky stretched overhead. She couldn't really be in Kathmandu…could she? But technically the sling rings could be used to open portals basically anywhere on the planet. Still, Kathmandu? That was like flicking your wrist and saving a month's salary on air travel. While she had gone through sling ring portals before, this was the farthest she had ever been away from New York.

She stayed frozen, staring at her new surroundings as Stephen stepped through the sling ring portal behind her. He looked down at her, and his expression was definitely smug, like he was enjoying her shock. Seriously, he should have been used to it seeing how most of this magic stuff blew her mind. She was just sarcastic about most of it because otherwise all of their conversations would consist of her going 'holy shit' while he attempted to explain practical impossibilities.

"Welcome to Kamar-Taj," Stephen said, gesturing to the courtyard.

"And we're here for _breakfast_?" she asked, tamping down her wonder. "Are we going to England for tea time?"

"If you mind your manners and behave, we'll see," Stephen said. He headed forward and Casey trailed after him, ogling at everything now that he couldn't see her. This was crazy. She had never been out of the country before and now she was in Kathmandu, which was incredibly random.

"What is this place?" she asked as they headed inside. Stephen obviously knew it well enough, but she had never heard him mention it before.

"It's sort of a training site for sorcerers," he said, "It's where I learned magic."

"How come you never mentioned that before?"

"Because you seemed so certain that I went to Hogwarts, I didn't want to ruin your fantasy," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

It was so tempting to stick her tongue out at him, but Casey managed to not be so childish. She followed him, but she kept finding new things to look at. There were art and sculptures, and the architecture here was intriguing. The history buff in her roused and grew hungry for knowledge, but she didn't feel like asking Stephen anything. He would probably just start explaining things in a condescending tone or something.

There were a few other people walking in the direction that they were heading and a couple of them greeted Stephen. Their outfits were similar to his, except in calmer colors than his bold dark blue and flashy red.

"I don't have to wear the outfit, do I?" she whispered, gesturing toward a nearby woman's clothes. "I mean, they look good on her, but I don't think I can rock medieval chic."

"You might change your mind," Stephen said.

Casey snorted. "Please don't count on it."

They moved into a building and headed down a hallway, toward the sounds of people talking and laughing. Casey slid behind Stephen, letting him block her. Was she even supposed to be here? She wasn't really a sorcerer yet. Right? Maybe she was, though. Still, she felt out of place here. A big room opened in front of them and the talking became louder. She guessed they had made it to what served as a cafeteria here.

"Strange!" someone called out, "You have a stable portal, why did you use a sling ring to get here?"

"Because I didn't think you would want someone wandering into your library without giving them all the requisite death threats first."

"I don't see anyone I don't know."

Strange looked at where she had been by his side and then turned back toward her, one eyebrow raised. "Are you hiding?"

"No, this is a good position for following," she said defensively.

Stephen smirked and stepped away, which gave her a good view of a broad-shouldered man wearing a dark red tunic.

"Wong, this is Casey Kinmont, my…apprentice?" Stephen said, making a face at her.

"Let's go with that," she said, shrugging, "It's better than young ward or something. We're not in a weird old English novel."

"Right."

"You took an apprentice?" the man asked incredulously, "You haven't been out of here an entire year, and you decided you can teach someone else?"

"It was a special circumstance. Casey, meet Wong. He's a grumpy librarian."

That was one fierce looking librarian. He looked like he could benchpress her and then toss her across the length of her local public library branch.

Wong narrowed his eyes at her. "Your last name is Kinmont?"

"Yeah," she said, "Why?"

"And how much have you told her?" Wong asked, turning back toward Stephen.

"Not that much," Casey said, breaking into the conversation. She had been out of it since her grandpa's death, and Stephen hadn't really gotten into how he knew about her parents or anything about their past with magic. Maybe it was her fault for not asking more questions. Her mind had just been…elsewhere. "What do you know?"

"Let's eat breakfast first," Stephen said, moving toward one of the low tables, "Then you can interrogate Wong."

"But—"

"You've been messing around on the astral plane, and you could use some food," Stephen said.

"Who said you could eat here?" Wong said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If we can't eat, can we talk?" Casey asked, but he didn't answer her.

"You're not going to keep her from breakfast, are you?" Stephen asked.

"I didn't say anything about _her_ not being allowed to eat," Wong said, "She's welcome at the table." He nodded toward the doorway that they had come through. "But since you're already here, Strange, we need to speak about something that's been troubling me."

"If it's the lack of new songs for your Beyonce playlist, can't it wait until later?"

"It's about Jonathan Pangborn," Wong said, his expression dark, "And I think you'll want to discuss it."

Stephen looked at Wong closely and then nodded. "Casey, go ahead and eat. I'll find you later."

"Oh, I think not," she said, her irritation rising, "I'm going, too." If this guy knew about her parents and was actually willing to talk about them now, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

"You need to eat, you can't use magic if you don't take care of yourself," Stephen said.

"I will return," Wong said, meeting her eyes. "And we can talk about your parents. But first I must talk to Strange alone."

Casey sighed. She didn't want to whine or throw a fit, but it didn't seem fair that she couldn't go along. Still, she didn't think they really wanted her to tag along.

"Sit down, kid," said one of the other sorcerer trainees, "And I'll tell you some embarrassing stories about Strange when he was an apprentice here."

The woman next to him laughed, a gentle, soft sound. "Like that time Mordo wiped the floor with him?"

The indignant look on Stephen's face as Wong led him away was satisfying enough that she sat down at the table, ready for some blackmail and maybe some breakfast.

 


End file.
